


Over the Sea to the Sky

by LePetitRosebud



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 02:27:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6497218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LePetitRosebud/pseuds/LePetitRosebud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fifth go, Merlin had sort of given up trying to catch Arthur's eye (not that it stopped him looking or anything). He'd only ever admitted it, entirely in passing, to Will. Will lived far, far away in Ealdor and therefore was safe to confess such inanities to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over the Sea to the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> **Trigger Warnings: PLEASE make sure to read the end notes for a detailed explanation and (spoilery) warnings.**

He always sat at the curved table, the biggest one the pub had, and he was called Arthur.  
  
It had taken Merlin an entire week to find out his name, and it had been a bad meeting. They'd yelled at each other, and it was another couple of weeks before he realised that Arthur was no bite at all, with a surprising depth of character beneath the bark. By then it had been too late. The whole university thought they couldn't stand each other and Arthur didn't seem like he wanted to correct that theory. Merlin did though. After a lot of internal agonizing he'd finally gathered the courage to go to the local in an effort to catch Arthur alone, only to bottle it. Then he'd bottled it again, and again, until his legs started taking him to the pub only so that he could glory in his shame properly.  
  
The problem lay in the fact that Arthur never was alone.  
  
Magnetic and charming, he drew people towards him like a lodestone. Always in a crowd, people milling around him like bubbles in a champagne glass. Merlin had sort of given up after the fifth go at trying to catch Arthur's eye, not that it stopped him looking or anything. He'd only ever admitted it to Will (who lived far, far away in Ealdor and therefore was safe to confess such inanities to) that it was partly the fact that the pub had good beer and partly the fact that he'd sort of fallen in love with the way Arthur always had time for a chat with the owner. Killy was old and strange, and if you weren't careful you could get drawn into a lot of long winded conversations that were likely to give you earache. But Arthur always made time, always said hello.  
  
Today was no different. Arthur sat at the big table after, surrounded by his entourage as Merlin hid behind his pint, covertly gazing. The sheer amount of friends the man had was mind boggling. As time wore on Merlin couldn't help wondering the truth of that statement though, and it wasn't the first time he'd had the thought. A dark haired girl said something and Arthur laughed like he always did, but the longer Merlin watched, the more Arthur's smile seemed to grow less genuine and more... inebriated. Everybody at the table was drunk too, but the thought refused to go away. What sort of friends were these, that let Arthur get this pissed every week? Could nobody see that Arthur was starting to sway, that he'd already almost fallen once? Didn't anybody care? Merlin had assumed always that these people were Arthur's friends, but now he wasn't so sure.  
  
As the evening wore on, the table got progressively more raucous. Merlin finished his pint and stood, planning to make for the loo and then home. He was walking around the mess of chairs when someone fell against him, hard.  
  
"Oh, it's _you_ ," they slurred into his ear, and Merlin looked down to see a familiar blond head against his shoulder. Arthur smelt like a he'd fallen into a tub of beer. Merlin frowned, looking around as he hauled Arthur up. Nobody seemed to have noticed at all that Arthur had almost fallen again, or that he was draped across someone who wasn't even a part of their group.  
  
"Hello," Merlin said awkwardly, trying not to notice that the top two buttons of Arthur's shirt were undone. "Just trying to get through, didn't mean to interrupt your party."  
  
"It's not a party," Arthur said, laughing. "It's just people, silly." His hand shot out and snagged a beer. He grabbed hold of Merlin's fingers next, wrapping them around the wet glass with the bizarre concentration of the deeply smashed. "There. Now you're a part of my party. In fact you should be part of more my parties, M _er_ lin. I demand it," he said and dissolved into helpless giggles at his joke. Merlin felt a little sick with how guileless his eyes were.  
  
"Hey, _hey_ ," he said, neatly intercepting the fresh drink someone slid Arthur's way. And then more gently still, "Are you okay? Perhaps slow it down a little, eh?"  
  
"No," said Arthur, eyebrows pulling down. He groped forward clumsily, grabbing the glass from Merlin in a flurry of fingers. Beer froth sloshed across the table. "Stop telling me what I can and cannot do," Arthur said petulantly, wavering on his s's just a bit.  The words would have had more effect if his face hadn't been so red, and his eyes half closed.  
  
"Hey, I didn't mean..." Merlin said, but Arthur shook his head again. He turned away, clutching the glass to himself like a child. "I don't care anymore, go away."  
  
Merlin tried to apologise but that just seemed to depress Arthur further. All attempts were met with him being asked to just be normal and call Arthur _cabbagehead _,__ please _._ Fifteen minutes in, Merlin was both confused and nursing an overfull bladder. He pushed Arthur's chair towards the wall, settling his bulk firmly against the table until he was satisfied that Arthur wasn't going to tip over. He legged it to the loo to the sounds of Arthur yelling out for a fresh round of drinks for everybody, and when he came back Arthur was gone.  
  
Merlin squeezed through the crowd, tapping the shoulder of the blond girl  - Vivian - who'd been talking to Arthur when he'd left. "Hey, Viv!" he said, trying to make himself heard over the noise, "Where's Arthur?"  
  
"Sorry, never heard of him," she said politely, already turning back to the bloke she'd been trying to chat up and Merlin stared. "He just bought you that drink, you _cow,_ _"_ he said incredulously, already pushing his chair back as she sputtered. Ten minutes later, he'd asked five people the same question and out of them, only two recognized the name. Merlin wasn't even sure if it was the 'Arthur' or the 'Pendragon' part of it that they recognized. He'd just gotten Arthur's number from one of them when Killy walked over.  
  
"It hasn't been long since your boy left," he said, looking over his shoulder at the entrance. "You should probably go after him."  
  
"He's not my boy," Merlin said furiously but he was already out the door.  
  
The ground was still wet from the rain, and the cold air burned his lungs. Merlin zipped his hoodie up all the way as he walked. He was going to have a very long talk with Arthur once he found him - about sailing off into the night, about the quality of company he kept. About what an utter, utter prat he was to worry Merlin like this. In fact, Merlin thought, he was going to tell Arthur a great many things he hadn't been able to before. He'd just turned into the carpark when his foot caught over something and he stumbled.  
  
Stamped into the pavement lay Arthur's signature red jacket, crumpled into a wet little ball. Merlin broke into a run.  
  
The cold was as much inside as it was out. It crawled down Merlin's throat as he called out Arthur's name down rows of empty cars. He kept stabbing at the keypad, dialling a number that kept going to voicemail. The carpark was like an elephant graveyard, silent and empty. Merlin's ears burned, open for anything out of the ordinary, and then he heard it. A faint creaking, arrythmic and strange, entirely out of place amidst the faint sounds coming from the pub. He turned the corner to see the old abandoned car at the end of the road. The door was open, and there was a dark mass inside which was too big to be just one person. Merlin's fingers grabbed hold, and then there were three people crammed in the small metal space. He saw Arthur, face pressed against the leather, lips curled over his teeth like a cornered dog. His jeans had been pushed past his thighs.  
  
Merlin swore. He braced himself against the back seat and kicked out, putting all of his weight behind the blow. The black shape fell across the dashboard and Merlin followed. He caught a kick to the shin as his hands latched around a wrist, trying to force it behind the man's back. They scuffled for a few minutes, then one of Merlin's fists hit something very soft very hard. The man fell against the window and the car creaked, lurching. Metal scraped, followed by a wet squelch. By the time Merlin had managed to struggle out through the open car door, all that was left were the wet splashes of footsteps, running far into the night. He was about to give chase when a rough sound caught his ear.  
  
Arthur was in the backseat, trying to button himself up with shaking fingers. His breath was rabbit quick, and then a sniffle broke the silence as he realised he'd missed the sequence and done it wrong. It took a minute for Merlin to remove his hoodie and drape it over Arthur's shoulders, and a few more to pry his fingers away from the shirt buttons. Merlin's hands fluttered about Arthur like moths, unsure of their welcome as he awkwardly helped push limp hands into sleeves.  
  
"Are you alright? " he asked, and regretted it immediately. Arthur shoved him and started crying, thick intermittent tears that traversed his nose to drip down his chin.  
  
"'Course I'm not alright," he said, wiping his face across a sleeve. His words weren't quite clear, sounding like he was talking with his mouth full. And then, " _Fuck._ I can't go home like this."  
  
He stood, stepping out of the car only to sway against it dangerously. Merlin grabbed the hood of his jacket, and Arthur's balance righted itself.

"Did he hurt you?" Merlin asked, and Arthur shook his head, quieting the animal that had been baying in Merlin's chest. He bent down to pick up the phone that lay in the mud, wiping it across his jeans. Arthur reached out and pocketed it, weaving erratically until Merlin looped a cautious arm around his shoulders.

"Why can't you go home?" he asked, heaving Arthur's elbow onto his shoulder to steady him. The two of them started walking slowly toward the main road. Arthur's feet dragged against the gravel as he walked.  
  
"Because my bloody Father will yell at me, and if he won't Morgana will. Nothing's ever good enough anymore, not for her and not for him," he said quietly, not even wincing when Merlin's grip tightened on his shoulder. "Arthur, this isn't the same thing. I'm sure once you tell him what -"

Arthur cut him off with a wet thing that might have been a laugh. "You don't understand, my father doesn't think these things happen to men," and the way Arthur said _these things_ and _men_ woke the thing in Merlin's chest again.

"Besides, if they're not yelling at me, they're yelling at each other. Everyone else sort of helps drown it out but they don't care, not really," he sniffed, stopping to clear his throat. A thin film of snot caught against the trough between his nose and upper lip, clinging until he wiped it away. "And then you. In fact, of all the people I thought... And you were _apologising_ , and you, fuck, you never do that, I just got so angry, and now - I can't believe I was so stupid -"  
  
Merlin caught Arthur's hands in a fierce grip. "You aren't stupid. A bit of a cabbagehead, perhaps," and that had Arthur turning towards him in surprise, "but not stupid. Are you sure you can't go home?"  
  
"I can, I just don't want to," he said miserably, and Merlin realized belatedly just how cold Arthur's fingers were. His voice sounded choked up and clogged - barely audible at all - and then it got smaller still, almost like that of a chastised little boy. "Do we have to report this?"  
  
"You should," Merlin began but Arthur just shook his head violently. His weight against Merlin's shoulder increased.

"I have my wallet and phone. And it's not like he, I mean he didn't -" Arthur hiccupped, "I don't even know who he was. And I was drunk - I _am_ drunk, and Father's new session is coming up and he won't - God!" Arthur's shoulders starting shaking, his voice degenerating into quietly incoherent mumbles. "I hate it, I _hate_ it," he whispered, and Merlin wasn't even sure that Arthur meant him to hear.  
  
"It'll be alright," Merlin said, cold and a little scared at how fast Arthur was breaking apart underneath him. Arthur, with his ready smiles and laughter and acerbic wit. How long had he been hiding this? How could none of his friends have _seen_?  
  
He hoisted Arthur up from where he'd sagged against Merlin's elbow, speaking into the soft crown of blond hair. "You don't have to do it right now. We can talk about it in the morning, it'll be alright," he babbled, not caring that he was repeating himself. And then, "Is there anybody's I can drop you off at? Should I call somebody from Killy's?"  
  
"There isn't anybody at Killy's," Arthur said, stumbling on the last word. He sounded hollow, like his insides had been scooped out and thrown away. His head dropped, only just avoiding Merlin's collarbone as he caught Arthur's weight. When he managed to haul Arthur upright, his eyes were almost at half mast. Merlin grabbed on and shook him hard.

"Arthur, you can't just fall asleep like this, not here!"

The wind was picking up, the temperature getting lower as time passed. If they weren't quick about it one of them was going to catch hypothermia. He caught Arthur's slack face in his hands, shaking him gently until he looked a little more alert. His limbs were still unsteady though, whether from the beer or the cold, Merlin couldn't tell. His hold on Arthur's arm tightened when he wobbled again. Merlin drew him in almost on instinct, tucking him into his side to hold him steady. Arthur allowed the gentle rearrangement of his limbs, and that acquiescence alone was worrying enough. Merlin came to a decision.

"Look, d'you want to kip at mine? I live just around the corner, in the little room above Gaius's."  
  
When Arthur said nothing, Merlin tried again. "I can take the sofa. The bed's in a separate room, if you're okay with that. There's a door that locks and everything. Or you could still call someone. It's just that it's getting late..."  
  
"It's not that," Arthur said quietly. He sniffed self-consciously, swiping at his nose again. It was already a little red and chafed. He looked up then, and Merlin's heart stuttered. Arthur's eyes were blue and guileless, just as they'd been back at Killy's. "It's just - you'd do that for me? I thought you hated me."  
  
Merlin hadn't a reply for that. Not with words, anyway. He grabbed a hold of Arthur's hand, leading him towards the corner of the road. The pharmacy lights were off which meant Gaius was asleep, but he'd left the landing light on. Merlin pressed his mobile into Arthur's hand as he turned to the door. Arthur stood leaning against the wall, eyes a little more alert as he stared at the phone. Merlin turned away. "Like I said, you can sleep here if you like, but if you want to call someone that's alright too."  
  
He fumbled with his keys, rattling around enough to make his meaning clear until enough time passed that he had to open the door. Arthur just pressed the phone back into his hand, and they walked up the stairs together.  
  
The bed, thankfully, was clean and it took only a few moments to move all his books onto the table. Arthur helped despite Merlin telling him otherwise. The t-shirts in Merlin's old suitcase weren't as baggy as he remembered, but would fit Arthur far better than the hoodie he had on. Things got a bit hairy when the bathroom door stayed shut a little longer than normal but then Arthur emerged, red eyed but stable. He drank the glass of water Merlin gave him, and then swapped it out for a bottle of water that he kept near his bedside. His mobile refused to switch on, so Merlin left his own phone there, disabling the password in case Arthur decided later that he did want to call someone.

Niceties taken care of, he stood, suddenly at a loss. The atmosphere turned stifling the longer he waited, and he nodded at the floor, unable to look Arthur in the eye. "See you in the morning," he said and was about to leave when Arthur said, "Wait. Please."  
  
Merlin turned. Arthur stood at the side of the bed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He looked absurdly young; unsure and sweet in a way Merlin hadn't ever seen him before.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said, and Merlin frowned at the non sequitur.

"About calling you an idiot, back when we first met," he amended quietly. He spoke deliberately, enunciating the words with the same exaggerated care he'd employed in all his movements since he'd come up to Merlin's.

"You're not an idiot. You're one of the nicest people I know, and I know you think I'm drunk right now and maybe this is just wishful thinking, but I'd really, really like to get to know you better."

His face, which only just begun to regain some colour, started to get pinched the longer Merlin stood, gaping.  
  
"Unless you're uncomfortable, I'm sorry,' he said. "I wasn't trying to-," but like before Merlin didn't wait for him to finish. He grabbed hold of Arthur's flailing hands (he'd have to tell Arthur that as well, how he loved watching Arthur talk with his hands), and smiled.  
  
"I'm not uncomfortable, far from. I'd love to get to know you too, but what I'd love best right now is to see you get some rest. Can you do that for me?"  
  
Arthur blushed horribly at the word love but didn't move away, and that, Merlin thought, was far more than he had ever hoped for.

He squeezed Arthur's hands once, smiling again at how much warmer they seemed now, and then let them go. He walked to the door, and stepped out as he heard the sounds of the bed creaking. He thought he heard a small _goodnight,_ and an even smaller _thanks,_ and dutifully answered both. He meant them too, because the morning wasn't going to be pleasant at all. While Arthur hadn't been blackout drunk, he had been drunk enough. There would be the subsequent hangover to deal with, the arsehole that Merlin still wishes he had given chase to, and all the other little burdens that Arthur had been carrying alone for far too long.  
  
But that would be in the morning, and there were a few hours to that yet. Merlin had the memories of Arthur's warm hands and his bashful face to carry him through till then.

**Author's Note:**

> A stranger attempts to sexually assault a drunk Arthur. There is a non-graphic description of the assault, which Merlin manages to stop, and minor descriptions of violence where he fights with the assailant. There are also hints of homophobia and Arthur's troubled home life. I would suggest not reading this story if any of these things make you uncomfortable.


End file.
